Blush
by WhitRenee
Summary: This is my own original story inspired by the concepts of angels.


The roses were dead like everyone here. I brushed the once beautiful flower off of the gravestone planted in the newly covered dirt, kneeling carefully. I missed him, it seemed like just yesterday we were kids playing in the wide open spaces of the meadow. I tilted my face up towards the sky, watching the misshaped clouds go by above me. Emilo was my best friend, my happiness, and my twin brother and now he is gone.

I allow one tear to slip from my eye and force all others back down. It has been almost two weeks since, thirteen days exactly. I remember how it happened, but I wish I couldn't. I wish I could rip the memory from my brain and shatter it. Next week is our birthday, my birthday now. I'll be eighteen and alone. The empty feeling that occupies my body causes my chest to ache. Is he really gone?

I look down and realize that I have dug my hands into the dirt. "I'm sorry," I whispered to him. Even though I wasn't completely sure if he could hear me I still wanted to believe that he could. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the worn down piece of paper.

_Tomorrow in the grass won't you come and see_

_ All the wide spaces shared with you and me_

_ The wind blows gently with its kind care_

_ And, the sun shines brightly glistening our hair_

_ Do not worry because we are alive and free_

_ Meet me after noon by our special tree_

I read the words softly and take in every breath. This was Emilo's poem for us. We used to meet every Sunday under the huge oak tree near the meadow. We spent hours laying side by side laughing and talking. I smiled at the memories. I began to lay the poem on the gravestone but tucked it back into my pocket. The poem was mine now and I wanted it to be mine forever. I felt like it was the last thing that was untouched by the evil in the world that my brother and I shared.

I took a deep breath and stood up, patting the gravestone gently. I didn't brush the dirt from my jeans as I look over the spot where he was. "I'll be back next Sunday," I promised him. I walked back to my house while my head reeled with thoughts. As I came through the door I saw my parents' fake smiles. "Hi honey, how was it?" My mom asked, the false happiness thick in her tone. "Good," I simply replied, not hiding any emotion. My dad drops his voice, "I know it is hard Eve, but we are all just trying to get by," seriousness seeping through his perfected charade. "I know," I say before slipping into my room and closing out all the bullshit. I had the urge to scream in their faces. How could they pretend to be so calm? I threw myself into bed exhausted.

When I close my eyes I can still see him tall, broad, and smiling in the sun's rays. I can't understand why my parents continued to act like nothing happened even in their own home even when the air is heavy with loss and grief. The confusion swam in my mind. I took off my clothes and slipped into something comfortable and crawled into bed. Sleep was the only relief. Suddenly I was running through the meadow. I saw Emilo yelling but I couldn't hear anything. Just as I turned around I heard him loud screaming, "Watch out," and then I hit something hard, jolting into consciousness.

My breathing was heavy and uneven and I rolled onto my back in an attempt to slow my racing heart. I thought of somewhat peaceful things like last month when Emilo and I had gone to the beach. I let out a heavy sigh. The water was calm and warm. The trip had been a graduation present from our parents since they trusted us to go alone. I never thought that trip would be our last together.

The empty feeling had returned and I could feel the tears surfacing. No.I fussed at myself, Emilo would not want me to cry. I decided to give up on sleep. It was nearly seven and so I showered letting the steam roll in and out of my lungs. When I got out I threw on a tee and running shorts. I quickly walked out of the front door before my mom and dad saw me. The last thing I wanted was their fake smiles.

So, I started running down the sidewalk. The fresh air was nice. It smelled like distant rain. I took in deep breaths of it as I continued to run. After a while I became tired but it wasn't until I heard the crunch of dead leaves that I realized where I was. I had run back to the cemetery. I just stared at the rows of graves. So many were buried here and I hoped most of them had lived longer than my brother. I shook my head and turned back. I ran, jogged rather, back to the house. As soon as I opened the door I saw my mom and dad both sitting on the couch. My mom's hands lightly trembled around her cup of coffee. For a second I saw my parents' real sorrow but it was gone too quickly. The gloomy look in my dad's gray eyes disappeared.

"It's time Eve." I gave him a puzzled look. "Time for what," I questioned. He gave me a sympathetic look. "We have to clean out his room," He said evenly. I probably let out a noise that was a cross between a groan and a laugh, because that's how I felt. I had been dreading this day almost as much as watching my parents pretending. I didn't want to invade my brother's privacy. All the things in his room belonged to him. I didn't want his stuff simply because it was his. But, I couldn't argue so I just followed them up the stairs.

My mom paused outside the door and steadied her shaking hand to twist the brass door knob. His bed was neatly made and the dark walls held over a hundred pictures. There were so many that you could barely even see the walls. So many memories plastered everywhere. I made my way over to his desk, admiring his artwork sketches and full drawings while my parents took his clothes. There were many detailed sketches of wings, especially angel wings. One sketch in particular claimed all of my attention. It was extremely intricate. Its feathers had details I had never seen. The curve of the tip was whispy and I traced the pattern with my finger.

"Eve," my dad said, and my name hung uncomfortably in the room. I turned remembering now where I was after being so absorbed in the picture. "Yea," I replied, looking over at him. He was holding a large black bag and another at his feet. "Your mother and I have to take these bags down to the shelter would you like to come?" I stared at him. His face was slightly discolored now and a little sweaty.

"No," I shook my head. He hesitated a moment, "Make sure to lock the door," and then they both left the room and I resumed my observation. I pulled over the office chair and sat down looking at all of the drawings laid out across the tilted table. Each one was some form of angel wing. I picked up a few to get a better look. They were really beautiful. I glanced back at the table and a large black bound book caught my eye. There was no title on the front. I set down the drawings in my hand and flipped open the book.

_**Do You See Them**_

__What I assumed was the title was clearly printed in the center of the page in neat font. I wasn't sure what the title meant but I moved on to the second page. More than two hundred small printed words covered the page. I couldn't quite read it so I began flipping through the pages. After the same small print continued I started to close the book but I caught a glimpse of a face. I hurriedly turned the page to her face. It was lightly drawn, except her features with dark and defined. The eyes were strong, it was like they were actually staring into mine. The shading was perfect. Her lips were soft yet dramatic. Who was she? Then my eyes landed on the name. Persephoni Guardian Angel.


End file.
